Lewis is three and a half. He's almost a boy, but he's still a toddler. What is he? Sometimes he doesn't seem to know. He is our middle child (I suppose Netta is, too, but just by seven minutes...). As Jessica and I were discussing the other night, it's a difficult time for him. He's coming into his own little person. Jessica smartly says he's developmentally trying to find his identity and how to express his power. Sometimes it comes out as tormenting Art a bit. Nothing that Art can't cry about and soon recover from, but Lewis is learning that he can do things and get real results. I feel like I'm constantly batting away requests from him, too. No, I don't want to come downstairs right now. Later we will watch our TV show. Please be more gentle with the babies. Lewis, please don't bang into me.
He often says to us, "Papa/Mama, I want to plaaaay with you." But he has nothing particularly mind. In fact, what we realized is that he doesn't really want to play in the traditional sense, he just wants to be the center of our world for a moment. To run around and 'catch' him, eat his belly, squeeze him, tickle him, be close with him. He needs that reassurance and close up super tight hugging love. So we're gonna give it to him.
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| This is the car window where Lewis drew on it with a crayon. AHHH, Lewis! |
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